


Angels

by gatherer_of_dust



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Fake Character Death, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of other characters - Freeform, Violence, War, Wedding Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:47:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29079597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gatherer_of_dust/pseuds/gatherer_of_dust
Relationships: Jeritza von Hrym/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	1. Rage

Why was it that when without a sense of purpose, the days seemed to stretch, full of more time than was wanted or needed. It was a selfish thought, Byleth thought to himself, but that was his experience. 

It wasn’t as though everyone else in the monastery felt the same, or was having the same day as him. But with all of the time that they had desired and hadn’t had in the upcoming days before their final battle where they had defeated Rhea, the seemingly endless amount of time they had now to clean up their broken land was almost unfair. 

If they had had that kind of time beforehand - or rather, the feeling of enough time so that they could think calmly and patiently - then maybe things would have turned out different. 

Sure, they had succeeded in overturning the church, but at what cost? Could many of the pains and losses suffered along the way have been avoided if only the illusion of endless time they had now had been present then? If only they had had more room to think?

Of course, Byleth wasn’t judging the emperor’s decisions harshly at all, but rather he was judging himself, and the times he’d swung his blade without hesitation, or agreed to things before giving himself the time to think them through.

The days were by no means lazy and quiet now, and all of their forces had to be used in some way to ensure peace and enforce new policies that they believed would better Fodlan. Tension throughout the land still prevailed, and putting out the church’s fires was a tireless job. But somehow, the days had gotten slower. Probably because they weren’t working up to some great battle anymore. 

With all that was still happening, the days had slowed, and now, all that Byleth could think of was his broken agreement with Jeritza. They wouldn’t fight to the death like they’d promised each other. In fact, they were to be married soon, of all things. Where one promise had been broken, a lifelong one was to be made in only a few days. 

Instead of having something to dread in the approaching days, Byleth had something to look forward to. Now that they had won a time of peace, Byleth could claim an eternity of companionship with the man that he loved.

Still, he felt nostalgic for the days of war, in a strange way. He knew that it was wrong to long for such discord, but it had given him something to do every hour of the day. Less time where he had to be alone with his thoughts that often scared him. Though, with every mindless swing of his sword, he knew that he was just carving himself another regret he would have to address later. 

But weirdly enough, a part of him had enjoyed war. It always had, dating back to his mercenary days. Fighting to quench the endlessly hungering beast inside of him. Was there a part of him that was like Jeritza’s death knight?

And speaking of his fiancee, it seemed that he had hardly sensed his presence as he stepped in beside him, looking out on the misty scenery surrounding the monastery. They were by Byleth’s mother’s grave, looking out on a world that appeared no different from how it had before the war. It comforted Byleth to think that some sights had stayed the same.

“The days seem to have grown longer.” Jeritza spoke softly. “And yet there are still so many enemies to fight.” His eyes were trained on the horizon, though.  
Byleth was, as usual, silent, but it wasn’t an awkward or lacking silence. No, oftentimes silence meant much more than words. Instead of speaking, he kept his eyes on the same horizon that Jeritza watched mystically, face unchanged as he extended his hand to Jeritza’s gloved one. 

With the breaking of their promise, and with the end of the war, had the death knight also disappeared? Was he dead inside of Jeritza, or had he simply left him for another? Perhaps the death knight had lived in Byleth, too, or maybe he still did, lurking deep and emerging from the depths of his soul at the smell of blood.  
Jeritza accepted his hand with a small smile, and he knew that it wasn’t the death knight’s cold fingers that embraced him. His hand was strong and warm. Byleth decided not to dwell on the death knight’s whereabouts. 

He could keep Jeritza himself, couldn’t he? Byleth wasn’t sure who he himself was half the time, though. How was he to know what Jeritza was thinking or feeling, or if it was the death knight that was speaking to him instead of the man he loved? The beast that had taken hold of Jertiza’s soul had been slain, right? Or perhaps it was only sleeping for a time, and could awaken at any moment. If the man lost himself, it would be Byleth’s fault. His fault for not protecting him from the enemy that lurked within.

“You don’t have to tread carefully around me, you know.” Jeritza whispered, turning his eyes to rest on him. There was a small, innocent sparkle in them, like he was fascinated with him, or perhaps he understood. No one except his father had ever understood him like that before, for it was mirth that glittered in Jertiza’s blue-gray eyes. Had he read his thoughts so easily?

“What do you mean?” Byleth questioned, steadying his voice with a little effort.

“What I mean is, so long as you’re around, the death knight cannot awaken. Even if you aren’t right by my side in the flesh, so long as I know that I am in your heart, I have nothing to fear.”

Byleth was shocked at how much Jeritza understood about him. He had always been remarkably perceptive, but still the surprises never ceased. Had he been unable to kill him because the death knight could not? Did he frighten the death knight?

“I don’t think he likes you very much.” Jeritza admitted calmly. “Probably because I do. The death knight hates those that I hold close, because he cannot kill them. You would hate an enemy that you could not vanquish, too, wouldn’t you?”

Byleth nodded. It was people like he and Mercedes that kept the death knight at bay. It had been the boy Emile’s isolation from those that loved him that had made him weak, and allowed the death knight to take hold.

“I don’t even have to tell him to leave you alone. He does it of his own will. My love for you is more powerful than his bloodthirst.” Why was he so open with him? No matter how Byleth looked at it, it was strange.

“Jeritza.” Byleth squeezed his hand, trying to ground himself. “I am glad that I met you, too. You’re the first person to understand me without having known me my entire life. You looked right through me, and warmed my heart.” He took his hand and dragged it up to rest on his chest, right where his heartbeat would dwell. “I know it may not feel like anything to your fingertips, but know that your hand made my heart feel things that could not be described with my past vocabulary. Now I know what it is, though. It’s love.”  
Jeritza moved his hand up to cup Byleth’s cheek. “I see that it is still a new word for both of us.”

“Yes.” Byleth leaned into the comforting touch. “But that doesn’t make it any less meaningful. In fact, if anything, it’s newness gives it a certain power.”  
There were small, pearlescent tears gathering in Jertiza’s eyes, still so tortured by the scars of sadness that stood there. “If not you, I wonder, who would have saved me? You were the one who made it so I could look my sister in the face. Though the death knight could never harm her on my watch, I’m not sure I would ever be able to speak to her like I do now if not for you.”

Byleth wanted to blush, but he was bloodless, wasn’t he? And yet, what was that queer warmth in his cheeks? “I’m glad that I found you, Jeritza, for you saved me as well. Or rather, you salvaged me from a dark place and brought me back into the light.”

The sound of the monastery’s residents bustling into the dining hall could be heard in the distance, and the two of them decided to join in on the food and drink, though they sat at the very end of the room, barely paying attention to the surrounding conversation.

“There’s going to be a mission tomorrow.” Jeritza mused as he lifted a spoonful of sorbet.

Byleth nodded. “Apparently the two of us are called to help with it.” They hadn’t been overtasked since the end of the war, and though there had been casualties, the Empire’s strongest forces hadn’t often been called to the battlefield. 

Putting down small insurrections and dealing with low-level criminals wasn’t where they were needed. They deserved a good rest, after all, didn’t they, after carrying so much of the war?

“I wasn’t told all of the details of who it is we’re fighting.” Jeritza admitted forlornly. These days he was becoming more averse to war.

“Some thieves trying to make off with enchanted treasure from one of the places we laid waste to. A fort, I think. A band of thugs took refuge in there while it was neglected, and when we sent forces to rebuild it, they all disappeared. A few survivors recently arrived, reporting that there was valuable and dangerous stuff that was stolen, and in the future could make the thieves a threat to the people in the nearby village.”

Jeritza continued to eat with little interest. “I’m assuming they found where the thieves ran off to with it?”

Byleth nodded. “The caves up in the mountains above the town. That’s where they’re hiding.”

The two of them finished their desserts in silence, and made their way back to their quarters - what was once Byleth’s room, and now shared with Jeritza - but Byleth didn’t sleep much. There was too much racing through his mind.

The next day, the two of them set off for the valley where the problem had been reported. The trek up the mountainside was chilly and not without risk of rockslides and other threats, but once they reached the mouth of the cave, they knew that their problems had only begun.

It was not long before they sighted the culprits, a few ragged looking fools armed to the teeth with strange weapons that looked out of place on them. Already, Byleth sensed that Jeritza was tense, preparing himself for battle, strapping on his metaphorical armor. When they had finally cornered the lone enemies, they discovered that many more lay in wait. It looked like everybody was there, which was good. Better to end it at once than little by little, Byleth thought.

Once engaged in battle, it wasn’t all that grueling. Not nearly as perilous as their hike up to the caves. The thing that bothered Byleth was that they seemed to be getting farther and farther from the light and delving deeper into the caves. Jeritza at his side, though, he could brave anything, right? 

Jeritza steadied his heartbeat and continued to swing his blade without fail, for he thought the same thing. It didn’t matter that he was cutting down names and faces with thoughts and emotions, for he was in control. He was simply doing his job, right? He was still himself. But the memories and echoes in his mind were hard to shake as yet another opponent collapsed at his feet in a pool of blood. 

Again, and again, and again he slashed at all that came at him. Byleth would forgive him, so it was okay. They were both killers, after all. But soon enough, he noticed that Byleth wasn’t at his side anymore. Where had he gone?

Even as he slashed and dodged, he whirled around, eyes searching for his partner’s face. He hadn’t left him all alone, had he, to be taken down in this cave, surrounded by enemies? He didn’t recognize any of his comrades beside him. Where had they all gone?

That was when his heart stopped, and his mind, too. In the far corner, there he was, slumped against the rock wall, bleeding profusely from a deep gash in his chest, right over his heart. He cut a path through the surrounding battle, through friend and foe - for they were all the same to him now - as he rushed towards Byleth’s side. Amid the chaos and din of fighting, he knelt at his side and listened to his breath. None fluttered from his drained lips, not a sound, either.

“Byleth?” He croaked in a hoarse voice, gathering his cold fingers into his grasp. “Byleth, please answer me. Who was it that injured you so? Why aren’t you moving? Please, rise to your feet, beloved. Let us end this, together!” But no response came.

He must have been dead. Jeritza’s mind went blank as the thought took over. He was dead, wasn’t he? Without thinking, he lifted the sword that he had dropped at his feet, smeared with blood and filth, and stabbed at the nearest living being. 

A confused cry was let out as a warrior fell. He didn’t care what side they had been on. Everyone was his foe now, for having let his partner fall, for having started this trouble in the first place.

Blood rained down on his face, forcing him to squint through the gore as he slashed and plunged into the crowd, severing necks and piercing hearts, puncturing skulls and dismembering torsos. Nothing mattered, because Byleth was dead. He would cut until nothing was left, until he stood alone amid a sea of bodies.

He had lost control, that was obvious enough. He was no longer even sad or mourning. All he felt was an unquenchable thirst, and a blind rage.

Yes, this is what you want, a low, rasping voice spoke from within him. It was the death knight, he was sure. But he didn’t fear him. He welcomed him, as he recklessly tore his surroundings limb from limb, red blood spattering his clothes, feeding the monster within. He wanted this. He wanted revenge.

“Jeritza.” A small voice spoke up amid the wreckage. He blinked.

The first thing he saw was Byleth’s face, eyes full of sadness as he drew closer to him, a hand outstretched tentatively. Then, as he willed himself to look away, his eyes fell on endless carnage, that sea of bodies he had so desired. It was shockingly ugly. He was used to it, though, right? So why did it strike him like a bolt of lightning, fastening his feet to the ground and making him unable to move? How come his knees trembled, and bile crept up his throat? He was used to the ugliness of war. 

He had chosen it, right? But this was different. It wasn’t him who had chosen blood. Since he’d killed his father, he wasn’t sure if he’d actually killed anyone while still being himself. It was the death knight who had taken all those lives, not him! And yet here he stood, perfectly and scarily Jeritza von Hrym, with corpses and dying men lying at his feet, his clothes sullied with warm offal and a stench that burned his eyes. 

Leaking, squirming bodies surrounded him, just as they had when they were alive, only they were his victims, no longer his enemies. That was how war was.   
Only this time, there was no armor to separate him from his actions, and from the ceaseless fight. No death knight to protect him from the bloodless faces of the dead, and their accusing eyes that cut much deeper than their blades. Where had his armor gone? His sword, his shield, his will to fight where there was none? 

Now, he was just a man, and a bad man at that. Not an untouchable legend or a remorseless warrior that lived free of regrets. It was just the same as when his wrath had broken through and he’d killed his father, only now it was for nothing. Byleth had simply fallen unconscious, and had been roused by the scent of blood and the sounds of screams to see the man he had agreed to marry standing atop the bodies of both enemies and friends. He had killed blindly, without a care of whose side he was on. In a way, didn’t that make him like the death knight, a mindless and heartless dog of war?

Byleth extended a quivering hand to him, but faltered, slipping on blood and weakened by his near-fatal wound. Jeritza moved without thinking to catch him in his arms before he could hit the floor. The professor was warm and half-conscious, eyelids fluttering and breath errant as Jeritza wordlessly cradled him in his arms, kneeling in a pool of crimson amid the ocean of fallen warriors.

“Jeritza…” For some reason, he was glad that Byleth never called him by his birth name. That name was the name of a boy who had killed his father. He didn’t want that dirtied name to touch his fiancee’s lips. Jeritza was a new start. Not the death knight, just Jeritza.

“It’s not your fault.” Byleth whispered gently, reaching up to stroke his damp, pale blond hair. His eyes looked so full of sadness. “Nobody has to know about this. We don’t have to tell anyone. You won’t be punished. If anything, I should be the one to suffer.”

Jeritza looked down at him with a face of fear and confusion as shaky fingers threaded through his tresses. “Why do you say that?” He managed in reply.  
Byleth smiled so prettily, he thought. Even at a time like this, he could smile. “You’ve come so far, my love. I could never hate you for what you’ve done. For anything you’ve done. You did well, Jeritza. You put down the death knight. 

“People died, I know, but it wasn’t your fault. You were broken, and used by the world to quench its thirst for blood, to carry its sins. It must have been so hard, being alone for so long.” It was wrong, what he was saying, Jeritza thought. 

And yet his words felt so good, he wanted to believe him. He wanted to believe that he was lovable, that he was clean. Byleth’s hand cupped the back of his head and pulled him closer. He was surprisingly strong for someone on the verge of passing out. 

Their lips met, and his tongue slipped into his mouth, tasting of metal and blood, as it explored him hungrily. Jeritza didn’t move, allowing the professor to touch and kiss him as he pleased. It felt so good, but he didn’t want to feel. He was afraid.

He really had been alone, he thought to himself. No one had been able to see through his mask like Byleth, the man who fervently kissed him as he held him in his arms.

The two of them stumbled out of that lightless cave and into the night, hobbling down the mountain as Jeritza half-carried his partner. Once they’d found a ride back to the monastery - on horseback, Byleth falling asleep on the mount that he and Jeritza shared - the stars glittering strangely as they lit the way, the two of them stammered out their lie and made their way to their quarters, both thoroughly exhausted. 

Jeritza laid Byleth down on their bed and smoothed his hair, looking down into his unconscious face as he washed his wounds. Soon, Manuela arrived to take him away, leaving the man alone with his thoughts.

The horrid truth was, it wasn’t the death knight that had been present in that cave. The death knight was a slave to death, a dog of war through and through, an unfeeling blade that thirsted for blood, not revenge. Such humanity was of no use to the death knight. And yet he had killed indiscriminately, blinded by anger. He hadn’t been himself, right?


	2. Bound But Free

By the next day, Byleth had fully recovered with the help of healing magic, and was back at Jeritza’s side. But no matter how he tried, he couldn’t look his partner in the eye. The two of them had this secret now, and it ate at his heart.

“Hey.” Byleth called out to him as they sat opposite one another at the table. “What’s up?” He asked innocently.

Didn’t he know? Couldn’t he see it? But of course, he couldn’t speak his true feelings here, among all his fellow residents of the monastery; students, teachers, all with such carefree faces. Only Byleth’s eyes glittered amid that abyss like the first few stars spotted in the night sky.

“Nothing of grave importance.” Jeritza grumbled, hardly touching his dessert.

Byleth frowned. “You don’t seem too occupied with your cake.” Byleth, still recovering his strength, had already cleaned his plate. “Let’s go for a walk.”

Jeritza’s heart stammered in his chest. He didn’t really want to leave the dining hall, but he didn’t want to stay, either. He wasn’t sure what he wanted.

Nevertheless, he complied, rising from his seat and following Byleth outside, where the air was fresher and cooler, kissing his cheeks with a soft breeze.

The two of them walked in relative silence until they reached the bridge. Why had they been heading in that direction, Jeritza wondered?

“Hold up.” He heard his partner speak. “Jeritza, tell me honestly, how are you feeling?”

Well, if he were to be honest, he’d say that he didn’t know. “I’m alright.” He lied, though.

Byleth narrowed his eyes, dark lashes veiling his emotions. He looked so handsome, silhouetted by the moonlight that was unobscured by its usual dusty haze. “I saw you, you know.” Jeritza made no noise or movement in response. “You had tears in your eyes. Were they really for me?”

He didn’t know what to say. Of course he had cried for him. Was Byleth really so dense?

“Jeritza. We are all only human.” He removed the glove from his limp hand and squeezed warmth into his fingers. His hand had been so cold not so long ago, but all the blood and vivacity was back in him.

“Even me?” He asked without thinking, his heart stopping. After all he’d done, he wasn’t sure.

“Of course.” Byleth’s mouth formed the most comforting shape, one of his unique, rare smiles. “No matter what others say, you of all people are only human. Let them talk as they please. I find your humanity beautiful. You have a passion that you have concealed from the world, but I have always seen it. I’ve always seen you.” There seemed to be almost a halo above his head, thanks to the pearly lighting of the sky. Was Byleth even human? No, he had to be an angel.

“I just wanted to be an angel, like you.” He blurted, yet again without a rational thought in his head. “I wanted to help people, and save her. My sister. I wanted to be beautiful and kind, like one of the saints. I wanted to be a hero, but at some point, I forgot what I even had been born as. I was okay with being a monster, because it seemed the only option after what I had done.”

This was the most he’d heard his partner talk before, but Byleth said nothing. They really were surprisingly alike.

“I just wish I could have stopped myself. You only get one life, you know? And I feel that all I’ve done with it is cause endless pain for myself and others.”

“You were protecting something precious. You were willing to do anything to keep her safe, and to build a new world where corruption could not touch her.” Byleth squeezed his hand again. “Even angels must go to war, when it is to protect what is good in this world. You are not an angel, though. You are imperfect, but you are beautiful like that.” He moved his hand up to his face to swipe away a tear from his cheek with his thumb, the glitter of it smeared across his porcelain flesh. 

His skin was oddly soft and vulnerable. He wanted to kiss the luminous tears from his cheeks, for they were beautiful, and surely tasted like the stars.

“No one could hate you for what you’ve done. And in this new world, you don’t have to lurk in the shadows anymore.”

Jeritza looked terrified. “But I don’t know if I can stop. If I can stay always in the light.” Byleth reached down once more to steady his hand as he leaned in to press a kiss to his silky lips.

“Then next time, I promise I will stop you. I will always be by your side, to guide you on the right path. I won’t let you lose yourself to him. I won’t ever fall, or leave you alone. I am prepared to take this vow before the goddess, when the time comes. 

“It is fast approaching that our fates become inseparably intertwined, under the light of the heavens, and when they do, we will promise only to fight honorably. To vanquish enemies with our own hands, and give them the proper sendoff they deserve. And if the goddess wills it, I will burn forever in hell with you. I will never let you be alone, like you had been as a child.”

It sent blood rushing into his cheeks to hear Byleth speak in such a powerful way. It comforted him, and grounded him. He had been on unsteady footing nearly all his life, unsure of how else to move forward than with bloodshed. Perhaps he could even stop fighting, and live a peaceful life with his beloved. Perhaps he wouldn’t have to eternally suffer for the death knight’s sins.

“You are too kind.” He answered in a voice that cracked under the stained-glass light of the cathedral. He kissed his lips again, and they tasted sweet, but also of salt. Was Byleth crying, too? He felt a smile against his mouth, though. He sobbed. “You must be an angel.”

On the day of the wedding, his heart was full of fear. It wasn’t an ugly kind of fear, though. Perhaps it was better labelled as excitement. He had never been to a wedding before, so he didn’t know what to expect. However, he imagined that Byleth would be beautiful. He never ceased to stun him with his magnificence, and on a day of such significance, he certainly wouldn’t be wearing his usual combat-ready attire. 

He, too, would be dolled up for the day, which he was sure his sister would enjoy very much. But no matter how many layers of white powder he applied to his face, he couldn’t hide. Why should he, a murderer and a traitor several times over, get to be married?   
He caked on the makeup until he could hardly recognize himself, and dressed himself without any assistance. He didn’t want prying eyes on his body. Even Byleth looking too long made him anxious. Could he see past his exterior with those deep, intelligent orbs and expose the truth, that he was nothing more than a murderer? He shuddered.

Standing before the mirror, he looked strange. He wasn’t used to wearing clothes that were tailored to suit his imposing form, nor of such costly material. It was a white tailcoat with silver buttons and trimming, slightly accentuating his broad shoulders and slightly revealing the white shirt and silver waistcoat beneath. His white pants and black boots were rather slim, fitting with the curve of his leg, and he wore a red rose in his buttonhole. His long flaxen hair was tied back with a white ribbon, a few loose strands framing his face.

As he almost admired his appearance in the mirror, he heard a soft knocking on the door. He wondered who would come asking after him on the day of his wedding, right while he was getting changed.

“You have the courage to disturb a groom on his wedding day?” He spoke up in a voice that was supposed to be intimidating.

“It is Byleth. Your husband-to-be.” Came a familiar voice in reply.

Jeritza’s heart pounded. “Y-you’re not supposed to see me until we are to be wed.” He stammered confusedly.

“I know.” Byleth’s voice floated into the room from the other side of the door. “But I cannot go without seeing you. It is urgent.”

Jeritza sighed. “Come in.”

Byleth was still in his casual clothes, Jeritza noticed, with a small sigh. He was relieved that he hadn’t been robbed of the moment where he would see him waiting at the end of the aisle in his wedding costume. But it was just a costume, after all. No matter what he wore, he would always be resplendent in his eyes. Byleth was just that extraordinary. 

Even now, he was a wonderful sight, with his deep blue locks slightly askew, his intelligent crystal eyes lighted with a rare display of excitement, an even more uncommon smile on his face that rivaled the splendor of the sun. Was he really that happy to see him? 

Then, he blushed like a maiden, realizing that his husband-to-be was transfixed by his elegant garb. His eyes roamed over him admiringly, and that alone was a jarring experience for him. Even though he and Byleth had been close for a while now, it was always something new to Jeritza to be loved and desired.

“What are you doing?” Jeritza questioned nervously. Of course, only Byleth could tell that his voice was that of an anxious man, for to everyone else he always sounded formidable and serious. “You shouldn’t stare too long. Then I won’t look as nice to you during the ceremony.”

“That seems improbable.” Byleth replied without a hint of dishonesty.

Jeritza’s heart was going out of control lately. “A-are you nervous at all?”

Byleth blinked. “Not much. I mean, how can I be, when I’m with you? Of course, I’ve never liked having a whole crowd watching me, but being me, it’s kind of unavoidable.” He chuckled. That was one of the first times he’d heard Byleth laugh so freely. “They’re mostly friends, though, so I don’t mind.”

Jeritza wondered if he could ever befriend all of those people that Byleth called his friends. It seemed like an intimidating endeavor.

Byleth approached Jeritza to get a better look at him. “You look stunning.” He confessed reverently. “The goddess’s greatest masterpiece, in my opinion.” Jeritza’s face was bordering on scarlet at the praise.

Byleth extended a hand to tenderly stroke his golden locks. “I have always adored how bright and soft your hair is. Like shimmering silk. That of a prince, or an angel.” Jeritza shuddered. He was no angel, he thought. But, didn’t angels kill, too?

He half expected Byleth to lean in and kiss him, but instead, he reached his hand around the back of his head and loosened the ribbon around his hair until it came undone and fluttered to the floor behind him. His long, brilliant hair came spilling around his shoulders. He flinched.

Byleth’s eyes lit up as though with a supernatural fire, his mouth curved into a warm smile. “Wow...you’re so arresting like this, dear.” He caressed the side of his face with his delicate yet calloused hand. He was so warm that Jeritza worried that he was going to melt.

“You-...you don’t have to speak in such a way. It’s-”

“Different.” Byleth finished for him. “I know. But you deserve to know how wonderful you are.” Byleth’s hands were on the curve of his waist, rubbing there pleasantly. He wanted to kiss him, but that would have to wait. “Please, wear your hair like this when you walk down the aisle.”

Jeritza blushed prettily, a light, sugary rose coloring against his fair skin. “For you, I suppose I will.”

Byleth looked far too excited about it. “I am glad.”

Jeritza reached tentatively for Byleth’s hand. “You know...I’ll admit to one weakness of mine. You should know that I get nervous easily around a lot of people. I don’t know why I am telling you this.”

Byleth squeezed back. “I already knew, Jeritza. But if it helps, know that everyone at the ceremony and reception helped pitch in to make it the event you deserve. They all care about us. About you. And not just because of your services in the war.”

Jeritza allowed himself a small smile. “I suppose my sister took charge, hm?”

Byleth laughed good-naturedly. “Yes, she did. She was very insistent about everything. But everyone was equally excited to help out. And since you seem to like your clothes so much, I should tell you who designed them. Bernadetta.”

Jeritza knew her, somewhat. Why would someone who hardly talked to him and was quite possibly terrified of him want to design his wedding attire?

“She did it because you’re a fellow human being, and a beautiful one at at that. Even people who don’t know you that well can see it. They all care. You are just as much a resident of the monastery as them, you know.”

Byleth let go of his hand reluctantly. “I should get going. The time for us to be wed is fast approaching, and I’m not even properly dressed!”

He cast him a reassuring smile over his shoulder as he opened the door to go. Jeritza could do this. He was ready to spend the rest of his life with this man. Readier than he’d ever been for anything in his life. And yet of course, love it’s full of its twists and turns, but he did not see that as disagreeable. He was sure he’d cherish every second of it, which seemed an incomprehensible gift to him.

When the time finally came for the two of them to be married and join fates, everything slowed. Jeritza was nervous walking down the aisle with all these faces on him. Both he and Byleth were fatherless, so Mercedes walked at his side, her escort comforting. The choice between her and his father seemed an easy one to make, especially now.  
All the eyes following him down the carpet didn’t bother him as much as he’d anticipated. In fact, he felt rather light, like he was floating up off of the ground. He embraced the looks from all the surrounding people seated in the pews, for they were full of love. 

Such an overpowering love from so many people was something he didn’t question. He didn’t bother with thinking about whether or not he deserved it. He accepted it with grace, his hand squeezed by his sister’s as she let him go, and suddenly, he was looking into Byleth’s warm blue eyes that matched the jewels in his angelic white robes. His heart was in his throat, but not out of fear, like it often was when he was a child, but because he was so incomprehensibly in love with the man.

They exchanged their vows each with tears sparkling in the corners of their eyes, the passion between them so tender and tremulous, as though it had been born anew as they gazed into the depths of each other with smiles on their faces. The cathedral was gilded by the sun and full of light that cast everything in many glassy colors, as the panels of stained glass above smiled on them with beautiful angels and serene angels, all incomparable to the beauty of Jeritza to Byleth, and Byleth to Jeritza. Even the guests seated before them had to admit that their splendor rivaled that of the goddess herself.

Jeritza couldn’t help but wonder if the golden light that bathed him was some form of absolution. Would this divine union with the man he loved more than mere words could describe finally bring him peace, in a strange sense? 

Would his heart be able to rest, would his mind be freed of shadows and dark thoughts, perverted demons and twisted memories? Would he be able to live as a person again? Surely, he believed, he would. He trusted Byleth with his heart and mind, with his love, pain, joy, and sadness. Everything, they would share together.

Both of them said their I do’s with infinite mirth and a rush of exhilaration. 

Byleth beamed so brightly and sweetly as he whispered to him so no one could hear. “My angel, you are sublime.” 

Then, he leaned in to press his soft lips to his. Everything about it was so soft and tender that everything inside Jeritza seemed to turn formless and fluid, his newlywed husband’s arms thrown around his neck as he clutched his sides, eyes fluttering closed.

Even if an angel of death, he could live so long as he was at Byleth’s side, and live with boundless bliss. He could, with time, thrive in the company of his new friends and comrades. 

With a single kiss, he would finally be free.

“Jeritza.” Byleth leaned in close to his ear. “I promise you this;” his breath fluttered as he squeezed him tight. “I am never leaving you. Not ever, under any circumstances. So you don’t have to be afraid anymore. You are free.”


End file.
